Survival 101
by Neuronerd
Summary: Gabriel and Peter survive a plane crash during a class trip. How long can they survive and rely on each other until help arrives? A/U, non-slash.
1. Chapter 1 Seperate but Equal

**A/N: After writing an exhaustingly long FF for Star Trek 2009, I had to get back to my boys in Heroes. Hopefully this one won't be as long, but I make no promises. Needless to say this is AU. As always, reviews are appreciated. Cheers!**

**Chapter 1- Separate but Equal**

Gabriel Gray adjusted the glasses that sat on his aquiline nose and sighed as he looked out the tiny porthole window at the clouds beneath him. He was bored, cramped, and tired. His long legs didn't really fit so well in the space allotted and it was just his luck to get a window seat in the tail of the plane. His knees were already sore from rubbing against the seat in front of him and he grimaced when the occupant pushed back, but he tolerated it quietly. He wouldn't have the nerve to say something even though he wouldn't reach New York for at least five more hours. It was just in his nature to put up with the pain in order not to draw attention to himself; God knows he was a magnet for unwanted scrutiny anyway without really trying.

Gabriel was a bit tall for his age, but he always had been. That wasn't so much of a problem in and of itself, but he was also a little thin. Not painfully so in a malnourished kind of way, but the others at school didn't think it necessary to make that distinction. Not helping matters was the fact that his now single mother was poor. His father had left them destitute a few years ago without so much as a goodbye. Gabriel had been attending a public school in a rough section of Brooklyn, but he was deemed exceptionally bright by his teachers and it was decided that he may be better challenged if he went to a school with an accelerated program for gifted kids. That, and the little problem of him coming home almost every day with fresh cuts and bruises he had sustained in fights either at school or as the result of an ambush on his way home.

His mother had never been a particularly religious person, but after his father left she spent more and more time at mass and it just so happened that the parish had a school that was almost nationally renowned for their rigorous academic standards. The problem was, his mother couldn't hope to come close to paying the ridiculous tuition such an institution demanded. However, after much discussion and review of grades and intelligence testing, the school believed him to be smart enough to attend, but poor enough to do so on waivers. Essentially, he was a charity case. There were not many at the school, the administrators were careful to stress that to his mother while he sat quietly at her side in front of the Dean's enormous desk feeling somehow guilty for being socioeconomically disadvantaged as though it were their choice.

Once granted admittance, he worked hard to do well in his classes. He wanted to prove himself worthy to his teachers, but most of all to his mother. He wanted her to be proud although in truth he hated every minute spent within the walls. He tried to keep to himself; he had no friends and he ate his subsidized lunch in the hallway or under a stairwell to avoid the inevitable harassment. His classmates were quick to tease him for being poor and thin. They would often ask him if his mother couldn't afford to feed him. Sometimes they dumped their food scraps on his lunch tray when they left the cafeteria and told him to take them home so he would have something to eat for dinner. When he wouldn't respond, the boys would shove him and the girls looked on and giggled in their high pitched voices.

Unlike the public school, the shoving never turned to punches, but it all hurt just the same. Of course he would never tell them as much. He would keep his head down, mouth shut and wait for them to grow tired of taunting him. It wasn't like he didn't know how to fight. Attending the public school taught him that being tall meant he had a longer reach and by the time he had transferred schools, he was becoming skilled at self defense. He had to, it was a matter of his daily survival. Instead he endured it because he knew that if he had been caught fighting by any of the nuns or priests he would immediately be expelled and lose his scholarship. That would break his mother's heart and he just found it easier to abide the mistreatment than to be yet another source of disappointment in her already shattered life. He was all she had now and he tried to make her happy although it seemed more often than not he failed.

The trip had been paid for out of the tuition fund, so Gabriel wondered who actually paid for his travel since it obviously wasn't him. He sighed again and tried to think of pleasant things to tell his mother when he got home. The class trip to Mexico City had in reality been a disaster, but of course he would never tell her that. He knew she would sit on the ratty couch in their dingy apartment and listen to him talk about seeing ancient ruins with that far away look of awe that she usually had when thinking of a life better than the one she knew. In her own mind she was a world traveler with a life of adventure, but this was a fantasy world and her only connection to it was her son who would experience these things for her. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but his mind was uneasy and he had an inexplicable bad feeling that stirred deep in the pit of his stomach.

Meanwhile, Peter Petrelli slouched in his overstuffed seat in first class and stretched out his legs. The stewardess offered him something to drink for the umpteenth time and once more he declined with a polite smile although he was anything but happy. He rummaged through his backpack and removed his portable CD player loaded with Pearl Jam's latest album and placed the headphones over his ears in the hopes that the stewardess would get the hint and not try to push more drinks or food or magazines or anything else on him. He just wanted to be left alone.

Peter wasn't usually this grumpy, but it had been a long trip from his point of origin in Costa Rica early this morning with a connection in Mexico City. He had enjoyed his time there immensely. While most of his classmates chose to visit the beaches in Cancun or Puerto Rico, he convinced his parents that he would rather spend his time volunteering at a community health clinic in the costal city of Tamarindo. They didn't understand, but there was nothing he wanted more. He couldn't explain it, but for as long as he could remember he always wanted to help people.

His parents were very wealthy, among the top 20% of all New Yorkers he would have guessed. Not that he really cared much about that, in fact he spent most of his time downplaying the enormous amount of privilege and power it afforded him. He was granted admission in one of the city's most exclusive private schools just as his older brother Nathan had, after a small donation on behalf of his parents to the endowment fund of course. Peter was no academic slouch, but it seemed he was always occupied with real world problems and couldn't help but feel that there was something that could be done to ease the tremendous suffering that he saw day in and day out through the blackened windows of the family's chauffeured town car as they went to a series of endless high end dinners and theatre engagements. Peter went along because it was expected of him, but he felt strangely disconnected from it all as though it were some strange dream.

His mother was generally indulgent of his passions, although she could at times be rather severe and cold with her affection. His father appeared to be far more interested in Nathan's life than his own, although Peter never felt jealous toward his sibling because of it. His father wanted another man of power to take his place as a lawyer or perhaps something more. Nathan showed great promise in this regard. He was handsome and strong with a sharp wit and keen sense of survival that made him quite popular in school as well as in his current job as a Navy pilot. He was quickly rising through the ranks and had received many compliments on his bravery and leadership skills by his commanders.

Peter was happy for him, but he could never be any of those things. But the beautiful part was, Nathan never expected him to. It seemed as though he were the only one in the wealthy, power hungry family that both understood and accepted Peter for what he was. While Nathan certainly was supportive, he could never really be said to have been a compassionate man. That meant he could never fully understand how important it was to him to help others sometimes at his own expense, but he never once discouraged him from it or talked down to him like he was a kid.

In fact, Peter had recently confided in him that he was thinking of going to nursing school after he graduated. He knew his father would be furious and his mother would patronizingly tell him it was only a phase, but he knew Nathan would take him seriously. Indeed, he sat on the edge of the bed in Peter's room while he was visiting on his last leave. After a moment of silence to let it sink in, he finally stood to embrace him and encourage him to pursue becoming a nurse no matter what anyone said if that was what he truly wanted. In fact, he would be downright proud to have a nurse for a brother. Peter smiled just thinking about it.

The two weeks he spent at the clinic were hard. At 16, he was just old enough to join the program. His Spanish was very limited, but that was the least of his problems. He had been trained in first aid prior to his arrival by the Red Cross, but when he got there he was shocked by the lack of basic medical supplies. The clinic itself was tiny and not exactly sterile, but the staff worked with grim determination while outside the line of people seeking care grew exponentially. Some had walked for miles because they had no other access to doctors. He was saddened by the lack of care and was often faced with the task of bandaging wounds that had been open for days. How the people had not died of infection was beyond him. Sometimes he was instructed not to waste supplies on more minor wounds or people that the doctors did not believe would survive much longer. That was hard for him to deny care to people who looked pleadingly into his eyes and muttered, "Senior, por favor…" while they grabbed his hands and held them in their own. It ripped his heart out of his chest, but all he could do was shake his head in an apologetic manner and reply, "Lo lamento." While the sense of helplessness was overwhelming, to have people thank him or kiss his hands in gratitude made up for it. If even just for a little while, he had made their lives better.

He sat up in his seat when the fasten seatbelt sign lit up. He had noticed the turbulence, but it seemed to be getting worse. He buckled his belt and jerked it tight, but thought no more about it until he picked up on the look of panic on the stewardess' face as she ran down the isle to her own seat. Peter wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew he didn't like it.


	2. Chapter 2 Boom!

**Chapter 2- Boom!**

Gabriel instinctively jerked on the end of his belt and again looked at the illuminated sign. The shaking was brutal and people began to scream as the overhead luggage bins were forced open and bags began to rain down. He clenched his eyes tight and tried hard to control his breathing, all the while telling himself that the violent swinging motion he felt was normal and everything would be fine. He may have been smart, but he never was a stellar liar to anyone, much less himself. His analytical brain informed him that his lungs had been suddenly pushed up further into his ribcage and he had the distinct impression that he was floating in his seat. He steeled his nerves enough to manage a glance out the window just long enough to see the ground fast approaching as the plane rapidly lost altitude.

His breaths were almost panicked gasps now as he once again closed his eyes and thought of his mother. It was one thing for the man who swore to lover her for the rest of her life to one day decide he no longer did and leave. It was quite another to have the boy that you loved so dearly from the moment he was born until he started to become his own man violently and forever ripped from your arms in a terrible accident. Although he didn't want to entertain the thought, he wondered if enough of his body would be left to positively identify and be returned to his grieving mother. He tried not to think of how sad her eyes would be, red and swollen from wailing in mourning the last thing she had to live for. The boy who once held so much promise would now face his death with as much dignity as he could muster. She may never know it, but he would not die screaming if he could help it.

Up in first class, Peter gripped the arm rests and sighed resigned to his fate. He briefly thought of his parents, but he wondered if they would even care that he had died. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure they ever really loved him in the first place. Sure his funeral would be lavish as custom would dictate and it would be attended by the friends of his family, most of whom he barely knew. They would all make a good show of being deeply saddened by the death of the quiet young man, however, it would all just amount to empty condolences and crocodile tears.

But Nathan? He may never openly weep at whatever kind of burial they could manage depending on the state of his remains, but Peter knew that his death would scar him permanently. He would no doubt feel somewhat guilty for not preventing it even though he had no say in the matter. Nathan was and had always been his protector, it was a job he did quietly and without expectation of accolade. Thinking of all that he had done from fixing his toys as a child to keeping the bullies away at the school yard even a few years ago to constantly defending him against his parents made him smile. He had been loved and that gave him a sense of peace that allowed him to just let go, satisfied in the life he had lived without regret.

An eerie deafening silence fell on all occupants of the plane as the engines finally cut out and the body of the plane shook and spiraled in a freefall with ever increasing speed toward the earth below. Some people continued to scream, but their mouths opened and moved without sound as parts of the fuselage began to tear away and the cabin instantaneously depressurized, collapsing the eardrums of the passengers.

Gabriel watched with a strange sense of detachment. Suddenly he wasn't afraid to die. The air that rushed through the cabin was freezing cold as the oxygen masks finally dropped like a mass of tangled spaghetti. Although he was finding it harder to breathe, he looked out the window one last time and quickly calculated that given the apparent velocity of the fall, he had only a minute or so left to live. Suddenly, the mask seemed futile in the face of an impact into what looked like dense rainforest at a speed of over 600 miles per hour.

Gabriel had always been a rational man and he saw no need to abandon it at the very end. His attention was drawn to an ever widening shear that appeared approximately 10 rows up that steadily grew until it wrenched the tail section off. A few people were sucked out of their seats by the sudden force of the separation. He watched them fly through the air as though they were mannequins, some of whom lost limbs on the journey. The last thing he remembered was the sight of falling away from the main body of the plane while it continued to break up, leaving a trail of debris like a shooting star across the sky. He momentarily felt like a cosmonaut floating above the earth in a capsule before everything went black.

Peter was aware that something was terribly amiss with the plane as it suddenly pitched forward. He struggled to secure his mask and took a few large breaths. He became dizzy with the sudden influx of oxygen to his brain, but he managed to turn around in his seat just in time to see the back of the plane simply disappear like it was a train car that had been disconnected. His eyes became wide and he sat back in his seat and wished for the end to come. If he had to die, he accepted it, but he didn't want to suffer. He tried to tell himself that he did not just witness the dismemberment of fellow human beings, but the image had been burned into his memory.

As he always did, he found himself wondering who they were and what they did for a living. No doubt some were married and may have had families. He closed his eyes and tried to block it all out, but he couldn't. Those were people who had real lives and loved ones that would be deeply saddened when they got the news. They thought they would see them at the end of the day, but fate saw fit to end their lives in a very sudden and painful way. He took one last look at the now open cabin and became alarmed when he noticed a large tear quickly separate the nose of the plane. Suddenly his section wasn't falling as fast now freed from the much heavier cockpit, although it hardly mattered. He laid his head back on his seat and waited for death to come.


	3. Chapter 3 Alive

**Chapter 3- Alive**

Gabriel slowly opened his dark eyes, amazed that he was able to do so at all in the first place. His vision was blurry and he felt numb, but he reached for his belt with trembling hands and managed to unfasten it after several failed attempts. The tail section had landed somewhat on edge with Gabriel's side at the highest point from the ground. Some of what used to be the roof had been torn off about three rows up and he could see light along with what he assumed was dirt. His knees were wedged and he tried to pull them out first by wiggling, then by pushing on the seat in front of him, but he was too weak from shock.

In a daze, he looked to the seat next to him and without much lamentation realized that the middle aged woman had perished. What he assumed should have been her face was bloodied and raw and her hair hung across it in a matted, windblown curtain. He blinked slowly and without much deliberation unbuckled her belt and shoved her out of her seat. She fell to the ground with a sickening thud in a twisted heap. He momentarily felt bad about treating her so disrespectfully, but the brutal fact was that he was alive and she was not.

He lifted the armrest and placed his right hand on the remaining divider between himself and the man that had occupied the aisle. Gabriel took one look at him and vowed not to do a double take. The man had sustained a nearly complete decapitation and it was gruesome. He focused on the task at hand and used his left hand to again push on the seat in front of him to no avail. Exasperated, he used his free hand to push the man's body forward in the seat to take the pressure off. When he drew his hand back, it was covered in blood. He looked at his outstretched fingers almost as though he couldn't comprehend what it was, but really it was because he couldn't bear to think about what he just had just touched. He wiped it furiously on the seat before again pushing.

This time he noticed a sharp pain in his right side, but the seat moved enough to free him and that was all that was important at the moment. However, he had miscalculated his arm's ability to support the full weight of his body against the pull of gravity and he fell toward the ground, bouncing off the middle row of seats and landing painfully on top of his seatmate. He wrapped his arms around his chest and rolled off her gasping and coughing. His ribs and back stung. The pain was so incredible he almost passed out, but he managed to hold on long enough for it to subside somewhat.

When he again opened his eyes, he was staring up at where he had been previously trapped. He was free, and he began to painfully crawl toward the patch of light he had seen earlier. It was no surprise that he had lost his glasses at some point during the freefall, but as he looked up at the interior of the plane, he could see row after row of limp bodies with arms outstretched hanging by seatbelts like dolls in a workshop. "Hello?" He called in the hope of other survivors, but was met with silence. He rubbed his ears to make sure he had regained his hearing and called again but still received no answer. Defeated, he continued to press forward, carefully climbing over each seat until he felt earth and leaves under his palms.

He carefully stood up and immediately swooned. He fought back a tidal wave of dizziness and nausea that almost brought him to his knees. He knew that he had a head injury just by virtue of losing consciousness, but he hoped it was nothing serious. When his head stopped spinning, he surveyed as much of the landscape as he could see without his glasses. It looked like he was in a jungle. To his right was a path of broken trees and gouged earth while to the left the foliage was mostly undisturbed. He assumed the rest of the wreckage lay to the right and he limped off in that direction.

He didn't have to go too far before he could smell jet fuel and feel the intense heat of a fire that lay just a few hundred yards ahead. He was careful to avoid the fires and debris as he approached the midsection of the plane that had come to rest in an upended position, held in place by a thicket of trees. There was just enough room for him to duck inside and look up the interior of the plane. Unlike his section, people reclined back in their seats as though they were simply resting. The injuries were just as bad, but they looked peaceful in comparison to what he had crawled out of.

"Hello!" he yelled with as much air as his ribs would allow. Faintly, he heard a few voices. His heart leaped at the prospect of no longer being the lone survivor, but the challenge would be getting to them. It was more or less a vertical climb to the top along the seats. He knew there was no excuse to be made, if people needed help he had to find a way. "Keep yelling so I can find you!" He instructed. The cabin started to fill with thick black smoke and he feared that soon the entire structure would go up in flame. Thinking quickly, he removed his shirt and tied it around his face to keep him from inhaling the toxic air. He swallowed the pain and began to climb.

He called back and forth to the nearest voice, but soon after they stopped responding. He wanted to look for them, but sifting through the multitude of bodies would take too long, so he opted to search for anyone that could still be saved. He continued to yell, his side increasingly protesting with every breath and stretch. Way at the top he heard a masculine voice call to him and that gave him the will to continue. He climbed all the way to the bulkhead of the first class section and sat on it to rest. "Where are you?" He asked trying to keep the strain out of his voice. It was important not to panic, he told himself.

"Over here!" Came the voice surprisingly close by.

The man began to wave and much to Gabriel's relief he was only one row away in the middle section. With one last effort, he climbed to him and knelt on the backs of the seats one row behind, trying not to think of the bodies that occupied them. "Hey!" he said casually near the man's right ear.

"Hey." Peter laughed. The response didn't make sense, but he couldn't think of anything else to do in such a situation. What else would you say to a mysterious masked man? "I'm kinda stuck," he admitted, "the seat in front of me collapsed and I can't move."

"Sounds familiar." Gabriel grumbled. "Watch your head." He instructed as he climbed higher and placed his feet on either side of Peter's bloodied face.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked trying not to look straight up at Gabriel's splayed form. It just seemed strange.

He heard a click before he responded, "If we are going to get you out, I have to get this guy out of his seat. His weight is pinning you in." With that, Gabriel grabbed the man's shoulders and pulled with all of his might. He grinded his teeth and growled as the pain reached a fevered pitch. Finally the man slid backwards and fell to the bulkhead, but not before Gabriel lost his balance and went with him.

"Hey!" Peter shouted when Gabriel gasped and moaned. "Dude, what happened? Are you ok?" He tried to turn in his seat, but his painful shoulder prevented him from it.

At first there was no response. Finally, he heard hitched breathing and a weary, "Yeah, I'm ok." Thankfully the fall was a short one, but he couldn't take much more.

Peter was relieved when he felt Gabriel pull on the back of his seat to climb into his field of vision. The smoke grew thicker and Peter began to cough.

"Take of your shirt and tie it." Gabriel said gesturing to his own configuration. Although it worked well enough to breathe, it did nothing to keep his eyes from stinging and he knew they were running out of time. "Can you climb down on your own?" He asked.

Peter was caught off guard. "How…how far is it?" He asked in a panic. His legs probably wouldn't take his weight for very long and then there was his shoulder.

Gabriel looked back down the interior, but could no longer see the ground for the smoke. "Kinda far." He admitted. He was disappointed when Peter said he didn't think he could and that sent Gabriel's brain scrambling for a solution. "Shit." He muttered again looking down and then back at Peter.

His eyes brightened when he noticed what Peter was wearing. The current trend in fashion was a style called grunge, which involved layering several shirts. He was wearing a black Nirvana shirt over a long sleeve white thermal and a plaid shirt was tied around his waist. While not something he would wear, Gabriel found it incredibly useful.

"You are going to have to trust me." Gabriel warned. "I won't have time to explain everything. Take off your flannel and your t-shirt. Wrap your face with the black one and give me the other. When you are done, try to get yourself over to the aisle."

Peter did not hesitate to do as he was asked. The guy did come all this way to save him and he seemed to know what he was doing. He tied his Nirvana shirt around his face and was amazed at how well it worked at filtering the air. He slowly but surely got himself almost over the edge of the last seat facing the aisle. Then he watched as Gabriel positioned himself so he could wrap the center of his flannel around his left ankle twice and then he tied both of Peter's wrists with the loose ends.

"I am going to climb us both down." Gabriel announced with some hesitation. "All I want you to do is slide along the floor and stay clear of the seats." Peter nodded, but he was not looking forward to hanging by his wrists all the way. It took a few seconds for them to get positioned correctly, but when they managed to align, Gabriel quickly used the legs of each seat as a ladder and hustled down as fast as he could. He didn't tell Peter, but his ribs could barely stand the stress of his own slender frame and now he had the weight of two men hanging.

It seemed like a matter of seconds until Peter's feet hit the ground and Gabriel slid down to rest in a sitting position. At least that was what Peter thought. But when Gabriel didn't move or respond when he thanked him, he unwrapped the shirt from the man's ankle and moved close to open one of his eyes. "Shit, dude." He muttered when all he saw was white.


	4. Chapter 4 Watching You

**Chapter 4- Watching You**

When Gabriel regained his senses, he was laying face down in the dirt in the quickly fading daylight. The musty smell of rotten leaves and decaying matter filled his nostrils, but nothing seemed so beautiful to him in that moment. It meant he was still alive. He lifted his head and blinked until the blurry image of the man he had helped came into view. He sat with his elbows on his knees, looking at him with a worried glare. "Hey, we made it." Gabriel chuckled almost amazed that his crackpot plan worked.

"Yeah, we did." Peter admitted. "But you are pretty banged up." His long bangs fell into his face and he pushed them away with some aggravation.

"So are you!" Gabriel laughed as the irony set in. "Christ man, we survived a plane crash. I am surprised we lived at all, so I will take a few cuts and scrapes. Did you think we would walk away unscathed?"

"No, but you seriously look like hell." Peter replied with an edge to his voice that gave Gabriel pause. "Look, you and I both need first aid if we are going to survive even 12 hours out here. Do you know how many horrible infections are just waiting to happen? The jungle is probably the worst place to be hurt, there are probably hundreds of types of bacteria in the soil that would love nothing more than to feast on your flesh."

Gabriel glanced down at the ground he was laying on and imagined it swarming with tiny microorganisms. He continued to look around and he noticed he was nowhere near the main section of the plane. "How did I get here?" He mumbled looking at Peter.

Peter again pushed his bangs out of his eyes and looked at the ground. "The fire was getting close." He said simply in a low voice. "I dragged you." He admitted.

Gabriel's mouth fell open for a second before he stammered, "But I thought…your legs…"

"They aren't broken." Peter said. "Probably just sprained or something. Anyway, it wasn't like I carried you. I literally drug you. You are heavier than you look! The wrist thing was a good idea, by the way." He complimented gesturing to his own.

Gabriel looked at his left wrist which was now turning a light purple and he laughed imagining the smaller man pulling with all his might to drag his limp carcass along.

"I'm Peter, by the way." He added with an intense look in his eyes, "What's your name?"

"Gabriel." He sighed resting his head on the ground. He felt so tired…just wanted to sleep for a few minutes….

"Dude! Gabriel!" Peter shouted eventually throwing a stick at him when he didn't respond, "Hey! Wake up. You can't go to sleep. We have stuff to do before it gets dark." Peter didn't lie, they had to find shelter at minimum, but really he knew that Gabriel shouldn't sleep if he had a concussion or something. He didn't know exactly why, but the thought that he might die in his sleep had crossed his mind.

"Wha?" Gabriel asked lifting his head in a daze.

"We have to find a place to sleep and we really should try to scavenge what we can like bottled water and food." Peter reminded. He was no survivalist, but even he had the basics covered.

"Ok." Gabriel grumbled slowly pushing himself away from the ground. The man was making logical sense and he couldn't argue with that. The pressing need for basic necessities brought him back around and once again his sharp mind began to focus. "The best chance for finding stuff like that will probably be where I came from. I think there was a galley at the very back. Besides, it is all laying on the side, so very little climbing." He reasoned.

The two men slowly limped toward the tail section in silent agreement. It struck them both odd that the area was so quiet. One would expect to hear birds in the canopy or even the sound of a tree falling somewhere. But the entire area was enveloped in a deadly blanket of stillness, so much so that Peter began to wonder if they were the only two living things for miles. Panic began to grip him and he turned to his companion. "Do you think anyone even knows we are here?"

Gabriel smirked and sarcastically said, "Probably. People tend to take notice when a plane containing hundreds of people goes missing. At least I would like to think so…" Peter frowned at him prompting him to add, "Seriously. Even if they think there are no survivors, the government will send people to find the wreckage so they can figure out what happened. As long as we stay close by, we will be rescued. We will probably be out of here by this time tomorrow."

Peter seemed somewhat more assured by the time they reached the landing site of the first piece of plane to break off. His olive eyes took in the whole scene as though he had not just left one of equal or greater devastation. "I will go in." He declared placing his hands on his hips. "You really shouldn't be climbing around anymore. Just stay here and I will be back."

Gabriel didn't argue. He only nodded with raised eyebrows, secretly intrigued by Peter's sense of determination. It was really no contest anyway. He had absolutely no desire to go back inside and see the still faces of everyone he began his journey with. He didn't want to see the seat he had been trapped in. He made his way to the dorsal rudder which was now horizontal with the ground and climbed up to sit on it. Inside he could hear small movements as Peter rummaged through the mess in search of food.

It was dark in the back of the tail section, but Gabriel was right about it being the location of the galley. Peter was careful when opening hatches and drawers, the contents would often rain down on him. He managed to find the compartment containing the small servings of chicken dinners, each neatly wrapped in a small tray. They looked wholly unappetizing to him and he wondered what he would have been served in first class. He continued to search until he located some packages of crackers and the storage until that contained drinks. He wrapped up 2 cans of Coke with his food in his trusty flannel shirt and crawled past the bodies of people who no longer had need of such things. He tried not to look at their faces, but it was almost a habit.

He located Gabriel and sat next to him while they ingested the small bounty he had located. Peter told him about the dinners, but he laughed and said, "Those would have been disgusting even when they served them fresh on the flight." They continued to eat in silence until Gabriel suggested, "I was thinking we could just sleep up here tonight. It is off the ground and big enough that we won't be all over each other."

Peter agreed, but was uncomfortable with the thought of sleeping so close to dead bodies. He hid a smile as he thought it must have been more frightening to Gabriel for them to accidentally touch one another as they slept. He, a living person, freaked him out worse than corpses. He didn't fully understand it, but he thought it may have had something to do with being in shock, or maybe his brain was scrambled. The two men lay on their backs, albeit almost two feet apart, staring at the stars through the hole in the canopy the wreckage had cleared on impact.

Gabriel was asleep within minutes, but Peter couldn't rest with those damn bodies so close. He quietly sat up and watched Gabriel's chest rise and fall with every breath in a slow and steady rhythm. He knew he shouldn't let him sleep, but as long as he stayed up to make sure he kept breathing, maybe everything would be ok. He just had to keep watching…


	5. Chapter 5 Scavenger Hunt

**Chapter 5- Scavenger Hunt**

Peter woke with a start at the sound of a primal growling that sent shivers up his spine. Immediately he scrambled to his feet and looked around to the dense foliage that remained. His pulse raced as he scanned the edges of the clearing in search of a wild animal, but in the back of his mind he knew that even if he managed to spot it there was nothing he could should it attack. He felt absolutely helpless, but compelled nonetheless. When he heard it again, he followed the sound down to Gabriel who was rolling around and wincing. While he was relieved it wasn't an animal that came to eat them, knowing it was emanating from the only other survivor was no better. He had never in his life heard a sound like that come from another human. He kneeled by his side and started to place his hands on his shoulders in an effort to comfort him, but paused in midair when he remembered his apparent aversion to being touched. "Gabriel, what's wrong?" He asked with great concern, brow knit tight.

There was a short pause while he opened his deep brown eyes in a squint to look at Peter in the bright morning light before he broke out into a smile and laughed. "I feel like I was in a plane crash, man. Fucking everything hurts. Didn't yesterday. Shit!"

Peter smiled back in relief even though he was keenly aware of the all encompassing pain that coursed through his own body. "Yesterday we were both running on adrenaline and shock. I think it all wore off. We probably pulled ever muscle in our bodies being flung around like ragdolls." It would have been a grim thought except for the fact that they had survived. He imagined them looking like the crash test dummies he saw in car commercials, head and limbs flying forward before snapping back in mangled contortions in slow motion.

Gabriel raised his left arm and looked at his watch which was broken beyond repair. He didn't quite know how to feel about it. On the one hand he would have liked to know what time it was, but on the other it was one of the last things his father had given him before he disappeared in a puff of smoke when he worked in his watch repair shop. He wore it not for the sentimental value, but because it was a practical, useful object that was currently useless. Still, he would hang on to it and fix it when he got back to New York.

"What time is it?" Peter asked noting what he was doing.

"Dunno." Gabriel admitted. "I can tell you the plane crashed at 6:37pm. That was the time my watch stopped. Do you have one?"

Peter shook his head sadly. "It was in my bag." It was a nice watch that Nathan had given him for Christmas and suddenly he wanted it back in the worst way.

Gabriel then looked at the sky and observed, "It looks like it might be around 9:00 or so."

Peter thought he was joking but asked, "How in the hell did you get that?"

"Simple math." Gabriel replied as though it should have been apparent. "The sun looks like it is about a quarter of the way across the sky, so assuming sunrise is around 6:00 and at noon the sun would be directly overhead, halfway would make it 9:00."

"If you say so, dude." Peter smiled shaking his head. He didn't want to tell him that it never in a million years would have occurred to him to do geometry to find out what time it was. It just seemed like too much effort. "All I know is that it is damn hot and if we don't find some shelter we will fry like two eggs on a rock sitting up here."

"Yeah, it does kinda feel like we landed in the pit of hell." Gabriel agreed. "You must be dying in that thermal."

Peter looked down at his arms with a frown. "What the hell was I thinking?" He muttered.

Gabriel laughed and said, "I don't know, probably that it is cold back home. No one on that plane got dressed yesterday wondering what would be appropriate attire in the event the plane would fall out of the sky. Don't be so hard on yourself." He sighed looking around at the devastation and it still didn't seem real. It was like yesterday was all a bad dream even though every fiber in his battered body told him otherwise.

"Do you think they will find us today?" Peter asked pulling him from his thoughts.

Gabriel shrugged. "I hope so, but I think we should plan for the possibility that we will be on our own for a few days. Have you ever been camping or anything like that?"

After he thought about it, Peter chuckled. "I went skiing in the Alps once when I was like 10."

Gabriel tried to keep the look of disgust off his face as he regarded Peter. Of all the people to survive, it would have been another rich kid with a silver spoon up his ass. He seemed a decent enough guy so far, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he started to think he was better just like everyone else did…"Ok. It shouldn't be that hard as long as we think things through carefully. Building a shelter seems pretty easy. We have food and water. All we have to do is wait."

"We can scavenge what we need from the wreck," Peter chimed in with a hint of hope in his voice, "but what about wild animals? How do we stay safe from them?"

Gabriel thought back to his classes and remembered the intolerable Sister Mary Katherine who was old enough to have created the earth. She was an old school nun who required her students to sit up straight in their chairs and would not hesitate to bring out the ruler for anyone who violated her rules. She taught world history and he remembered learning about the religious beliefs of the Mayans. They often thought animals were deities and the only two he could remember were a large bird and a jaguar. He had nothing to worry about regarding the bird but…

"There might be jaguars." He said with hesitation. "But if there are we can't stay here. It will only be a matter of time before they are drawn by the scent of the bodies. We can build a shelter far off the ground away from the crash. I suggest we get what we can now in one shot and then never go back. The bodies will not only draw predators, but in this heat they will decompose very quickly and I do not want to be crawling in that shit for anything."

There was something in the way that Gabriel kept referring to the people who had died as bodies that Peter found disturbing. They were humans who all had lives and hopes, not inanimate objects. He also found the thought of wild animals consuming them like a zebra carcass disconcerting, but they were just animals that had no sense of decorum. As far as they were concerned, they were lucky to stumble on a hanging buffet and it was open for business. He really couldn't blame them, it was just their nature.

It was mutually agreed that Peter would search his half of the wreckage and Gabriel his. Anything that could be deemed useful was fair game no matter the origin and on Gabriel's insistence, nothing was sacred. If one of the passengers was holding a knife or a lighter, it was to be pried out of their cold dead hands without hesitation. After several hours, the men met in the middle of the two segments, each holding a blanket full of items. Miles of wire, a first aid kit, fire extinguisher, flare gun, more food and drinks, clothing, shards of plastic, 3 lighters, opened packs of gum and mints, bottles of aspirin, and plenty of magazines.

"Check this out." Gabriel almost whispered as he pulled out several small bottles of alcohol from his pockets to show to Peter.

Peter laughed and protested, "But we aren't even old enough to drink!"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "And who the hell is going to know? Are the jungle police going to spring out of nowhere and bust us for underage consumption? If so, I will gladly spend a night in jail to get out of this shithole. Besides," he said in a quieter tone, "today is my birthday. I just thought you might want to celebrate with me."

It seemed to Peter that he wasn't used to inviting others into his life judging by the awkward way he looked at the ground when he spoke. "Hell yeah, man!" Peter said excitedly. "Congratulations. How old are you?" He always had a way of making people feel comfortable and he hoped it would work now too.

"17." Gabriel answered with a small smile. "One hell of a birthday, huh?"

"One you won't forget, but at least you lived to see it." Peter replied. "Cool. How about we get going on that shelter and celebrate after we are done?"

Gabriel nodded and the two drug their booty to the edge of the clearing and began to plan on what kind of shelter they wanted and how it would be constructed. Peter quickly discovered that this was going to be more Gabriel's domain and he was content to just gather branches while Gabriel lashed them together for most of the afternoon.


	6. Chapter 6 I Can Fix You

**Chapter 6- I Can Fix You**

Gabriel was almost as impressed as Peter. The two men stood looking up at the new tree house they had made complete with a roof thatched with fern fronds and a ladder that could be retracted at night. Neither man thought they were capable of constructing anything like it since they had no need for knowledge like that back in New York. Gabriel had to climb a lot and balance carefully to get the frame in place, but he took his time and made sure each support beam was sturdy and tightly lashed with the multicolored wire they had pulled from the fuselage. For his part, Peter tirelessly searched the surrounding area for branches that were the right size and in good condition before dragging them back to Gabriel and lifting them over his head. By the end of the project Peter was tired and sore, but he imagined Gabriel felt the same, so he kept it to himself. He didn't want to seem like a whiner.

In the end, they had a nice place to sleep approximately 10 feet off the ground and 6 feet square far enough from the wreckage that they would not be bothered by the stench of death that would soon begin to permeate the area, but close enough that they could still be rescued when they came. Gabriel thought that 10 feet would be enough to deter any large animals that may accidently find them. After all, he reasoned, house cats are incredibly lazy so there was no reason to think that a Jaguar would waste the time jumping or climbing to get them when it could easily find a meal a hundred or so yards away. Peter had never owned a cat, or any pet for that matter, so he couldn't verify the assumptions.

Night was fast falling and the two men were exhausted. Gabriel started a fire with leftover building materials, scraps of magazines, and a lighter they had found. It wasn't that it really got too cold at night, but there was something comforting about the warm glow that made it all seem worth it. While Peter was looking down to watch Gabriel at work, he noticed something he didn't like. He had seen them before, when he was dragging him along with every ounce of strength he could muster. Gabriel's shirt slipped up and Peter saw two long, jagged gashes along his back. They didn't look too bad at the time, or maybe he was just preoccupied, but now they were bleeding and the back of Gabriel's shirt was stained a deep brownish black. He sighed and fished the first aid kit out of the bag that had been casually tossed into a corner. He really hoped Gabriel wouldn't make this all weird.

Gabriel was surprised to see Peter holding the first aid kit in his crossed legs with an intense look on his face when he climbed up on the platform. If he hadn't known the man so well, it might have frightened him. "Dude, it has to be done." Peter said simply.

"What has to be done?" Gabriel asked innocently. "Do you need help? I can do that…"

Peter shook his head. "Not me, you. Take your shirt off and lay down."

Between the hardness in his voice and the fire light that danced off his determined features, Gabriel actually found himself wondering if the smaller man had gone mad. "Me? Why?" He stammered. If Peter had lost his mind, the last thing he was going to do was lay face down in a vulnerable position so he couldn't defend himself.

Peter's features softened as he sighed. "Man, don't make this so difficult. You have some nasty cuts on your back that if you leave them open they will get infected, if they haven't already. Look, it is really no big deal. So, what do you say we just get this over with so we can get on to celebrating your birthday?"

Gabriel looked around the hut nervously. He was aware of the constant stinging sensation coming from his back, but he thought they were just scratches. Even though he knew Peter was making sense, he still found himself reluctant to be in such a weak position. "Um, do I have to lay down? Can you do your thing if I just sit?" To Gabriel being attacked while sitting was still not ideal, but at least it gave him a few more options for defense.

Peter shrugged. "I can try. Just sit with your back to the fire so I can see what the hell I am doing."

Gabriel grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, stopping to gasp when the wounds reopened when the scab was pulled away. He held his shirt out in front of him disgusted at the bloody rag before leaning over the edge of the hut to toss it into the fire. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with it, it sickened him at a visceral level. Peter opened the first aid kit and was dismayed at the limited contents. It looked as though the crew didn't keep it properly stocked. But if there was anything that Peter had learned in Costa Rica, it was how to make supplies stretch.

Peter leaned in close and Gabriel tensed ever so slightly. "Dude, I am going to have to touch you to do this." Peter almost laughed. "Relax, I'm not a fag or anything." Not that it was a bad thing, he actually had several gay friends that his parents didn't know about, of course. Hell, some of the kids of the people his parents desperately wanted to impress secretly hung out in the East Village on the weekends to hook up. They were all in denial and Peter could never figure out why.

"Too bad." Gabriel said with a mysterious grin. He was used to being called names, particularly at the public school where everyone accused him of being queer. It caused a lot of fights, not that they really needed an excuse, but he didn't care. The truth was, he was just as into girls as anyone else, but he just couldn't find it in himself to care about who was doing what with who. There seemed to be bigger evils in the world aside from two boys kissing behind the bleachers in his opinion. Or two girls…but that was different because he thought it was kinda sexy.

Peter carefully inspected the wounds and was relieved to see that despite his own contribution, there was very little dirt embedded in his flesh. Some edges of the skin looked as though they were already infected, but it wasn't as bad as Peter had feared. He forewarned Gabriel that it might sting at times when he scrubbed the deepest sections of the laceration and overall, he sat mostly still and took it without complaint. When he was sure the wounds were clean, he carefully placed gauze bandages over the angry line that oozed scarlet. Since he had so few supplies, he had to open the gauze pads to make them stretch further, but it was better than nothing. He then removed an ace bandage and wrapped it around Gabriel's torso because he knew there would not be enough skin tape to do the job; a few inches at best was all that remained on the roll. "See? That wasn't so bad." Peter said pushing his bangs out of his eyes. "Now to the good part. Do you prefer Jack Daniels, Bombay Sapphire, or Captain Morgan's?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "I have never had any of them."

"Me neither." Peter shrugged. "I guess we will just have to try them all." He handed one of the small bottles to Gabriel and lifted his own in a toast. "To the birthday boy. My you live long and never have another birthday suck as much as this one."

Gabriel laughed. This would be the one he could tell his great grandchildren about: the birthday that he spent in a tree house he built, illegally drinking liquor that he had stolen, in the middle of nowhere with a guy he hardly knew after surviving a plane crash. Of course they would laugh at the senile old man, but he would always know better.


	7. Chapter 7 Canibalism and Superpowers

**Chapter 7- Cannibals and Superpowers**

Rain was such an inadequate word to describe the amount of water that had fallen from the sky since the night before. Gabriel and Peter lay on their stomachs, eating the last of the food they had salvaged from the plane and watching the huge drops of water land on the ground like missiles all around them. Once in awhile a small drip would form and fall on them, but for the most part the fern fronds were doing a fine job in keeping them dry.

"That's it." Peter lamented tossing the wrapper of the last package of crackers over the edge. "What are we going to do for food?"

Gabriel shook his head. "I tell you what we should have done," his voice took on a low tone that gave Peter the creeps, "if we would have known that it would take this long for someone to find us, one of the first things I would have done would be to have a feast."

Peter's eyes widened as the horror set in at Gabriel's implication. "You would have eaten those people?! That's fucked up, man. Seriously."

Gabriel looked calmly at his companion and replied, "I didn't say I would have enjoyed it. But in a time of crisis you do what you have to so as to stay alive. In the simplest of terms flesh is flesh regardless of the source. It really wouldn't be much different from a steak."

"Fuck man! The difference is a cow is not a person!" Peter protested. "Would you eat me?"

The determination in Gabriel's eyes was enough of an answer but he said, "Absolutely. I wouldn't kill you for your meat, but if you just died I wouldn't hesitate to carve you up. The amount of protein you would provide could sustain me for days." All Peter could do was exhale sharply and vacillate between terror and disgust. "Come on Peter," he smiled, "I would expect you to do the same to me. I promise I wouldn't haunt you for it."

"Dude, I would _never_ do that to you." Peter vowed.

Gabriel shook his head sadly. "Then you would be throwing away your best chance at survival. In fact, choosing to let me rot rather than make good use of my muscle so you could live is almost more offensive to me. What would you do with my body then, bury it?" Peter numbly agreed to which Gabriel replied. "Huge waste of energy. I will haunt you if you do dumb shit like that. Anyway, it is all a moot point since the bodies are probably too far gone now to take the risk. We will just have to search for food. Maybe there is some kind of fruit or small animals we can catch."

Peter rolled onto his back and rubbed his face. "This is all so fucking insane, man. Here we are talking about cannibalism like we are the last two members of the Donner Party and now we are supposed to be hunters? I, for one, am no hunter. I don't even have the first fucking clue on how to go about it."

"Well it isn't like I spent a lot of time trapping squirrels and pigeons in Central Park for dinner either, but we managed to build a shelter when we didn't know we could." Gabriel suggested.

"No," Peter disagreed pointing at Gabriel, "_you_ built the shelter. I just brought the materials and watched you put it all together like a damn hobby kit. How did you do it? How did you know what to do?" Gabriel became silent and picked at the bark on a branch in front of him. Peter could tell that the other man wanted to say something, but his eyes were dark and brooding. "Did you do this kind of shit with your dad on the weekends or something?" He pressed.

Gabriel paused and quickly replied, "I don't have a dad." The words just shot out of his mouth and he instantly regretted it. It made it seem like he was whining about it when really as far as he was concerned it made no difference. He really struggled to maintain some semblance of a normal life after his abrupt departure, but that was mostly for his mother's benefit.

His father was never really interested in him or anything he was involved with other than to tell him he wasn't doing it right or trying hard enough. What would his dad think of him now that he had saved the life of another person and was at least up to this point staying alive against the odds? No doubt he would find something that he could have done differently along the way and be quick to point it out as a class act fuck up. Deep down Gabriel knew he was no hero, and he also knew that one shining example could never erase a lifetime of disappointments.

"Shit man, I'm sorry. I guess I just assumed…" Peter said softly. Coming from anyone else's mouth, Gabriel would have taken it as patronizing or insincere, but Peter did seem genuinely contrite.

"It's cool." He shrugged feigning indifference. "I know this is going to sound strange, but I didn't know anything about construction before yesterday. It's…I just…nevermind." He said shaking his head. "It's too hard to explain."

Peter laughed and stretched his arms as wide as he could without touching Gabriel. "Come on, man! It would seem that we have plenty of time on our hands. Try me, I promise I won't laugh or whatever."

Gabriel sighed. He had never told anyone because it all sounded so crazy. "I just seem to be able to figure things out lately." He said hesitantly. "I don't know how I know these things, sometimes it just seems so obvious. It is like watching pieces of a puzzle fall into place all on their own, but it is weird because I know I have no reason to have that knowledge. Does any of this make sense?" He asked in an almost pleading voice.

Peter lay looking up at the green foliage that made the roof of the hut and wondered how he would answer that question. He didn't want to destroy the trust he had somehow managed to foster with the reclusive Gabriel, but he really didn't follow. "Can you give me an example?" He asked thoughtfully.

"Ok." Gabriel sighed as he thought. "It seems to happen more often with mechanical type things, but sometimes if I think about it other systems make sense too. I guess the best example I can give you is my part time job. Before he left, my dad had his own watch repair shop. He would never let me in there because he said I would fuck everything up, so I never learned how to fix watches. About two years ago, I found some tools and old watches he left on his bench and I sat down and studied them. I swear I had no intention of doing anything with it, but it was just like a light went off in my head and all of a sudden I completely understood how the parts fit together to make the mechanism run. And that is how I got this." He pointed to his broken watch. "He freaked when he found out I was in his shop, but he let me keep it because I had fixed it. Peter, I swear to you I had no fucking clue what I was doing, but it was as though the information was somehow in my head."

Peter turned his head to toward Gabriel and was taken in by his large, panicked eyes. There was no doubt in Peter's mind he was telling the truth, but he couldn't comprehend how it could be possible. How do you just sit down and figure out something as complex as a watch in a matter of minutes? "Maybe you are just a genius, Gabriel." Peter said soothingly. "Or is it possible that you had watched your father fix watches and forgotten it? Maybe it is just in your DNA. I am sure there has to be an explanation, but really does it matter? I am sure that the not knowing how you know is scary, but the important thing is that it works in your favor."

Gabriel was put at ease by Peter's nonjudgmental tone. He fully expected him to laugh or at the very least question his sanity, but he seemed to be the kind of guy that believed almost anything was possible. "Do you really think it could be DNA?" He pondered. "I mean, it has been said that most of your DNA material is just residual junk that used to be important, but what if it somehow recombined to give you new traits?" Gabriel was well aware that he was letting his geekiness show, but Peter seemed to be fairly intelligent and he almost longed for a good intellectual debate or conversation.

Peter gave a far away smile while he imagined the possibility. "I don't know,' he shrugged, "it seems possible because your DNA is what makes you what you are and we know it can change, but I don't know that it could mutate enough to give you superhuman abilities. If that were so, you would see people throwing cars or flying or some crazy shit like that. But as for you, I just think it is because you are some kind of brainiac. But hey, that's pretty cool too."

Gabriel knew Peter was trying to compliment him, but he couldn't have disagreed more. Being smart was nice; but wouldn't it be better- _more special_- to have a superpower? After all, a lot of people were smart, but how many could do truly extraordinary things? "If you could have a superpower," he asked with a smile, "what would you want?"

Peter laughed. Suddenly he imagined Gabriel surrounded by comic books and sci-fi posters. He just knew he was the type to watch X-Files in the dark. "Wow, what would I want?" He mused. He knew immediately he would want the ability to heal others, but he wasn't going to tell Gabriel that. "Um…invisibility would be cool." He answered.

"I would want as many as I could get." Gabriel chuckled. "Why settle for just one?"

"That's cheating!" Peter charged. "You can't have them all you greedy bastard!"

Gabriel grabbed his side and grimaced, but couldn't stop laughing. "You are just pissed I thought of it first." He said between breaths. "Shit!" He exclaimed sitting up. "I'll tell you what is not magical- I have to piss now and it is still raining. I will get soaked going down there."

"Go over the side then." Peter suggested. Gabriel turned to give him a horrified look which prompted Peter to cry, "Are you fucking serious? You were just telling me about eating dead bodies and it bothers you to have an audience? You are seriously fucked up in the head, did you know that?"

"So I have been told." Gabriel grumbled. Peter was left wondering exactly what that meant as he watched his companion climb out of sight to the mud below.


	8. Chapter 8 Going Primal

**A/N: I'm finally back! *Sheepish grin* I was a bit distracted and consumed with writing my Star Trek reboot FF- no excuse for leaving the boys stranded in the jungle for months, I know. My bad- feel free to give me a virtual frown via reviews…Cheers!**

**Chapter 8- Going Primal**

Peter awoke with a thick, sticky layer of sweat covering his body. He had long ago ripped his Nirvana shirt into a makeshift tank top, but it didn't seem to help. The rain had stopped during the night, leaving the jungle floor covered in a muddy soup and the air so completely saturated with moisture that he was amazed he was able to sweat at all. He felt weak and tired although he had slept relatively well the night before. He rolled his head to Gabriel's side of the hut and blinked a few times when he saw nothing. He turned onto his stomach when he heard what he thought sounded like a fire and peered over the edge of the platform to see Gabriel completely covered in mud and poking at smoldering flames. Try as he might, he couldn't think of any plausible reason for what his eyes reported. He determined that this strange occurrence would require further investigation, so he slowly climbed down the ladder and joined the apparently crazy man.

Peter cautiously squatted by Gabriel and looked at him passively, hoping the taller man would spontaneously provide an explanation, but he was disappointed. When he grew impatient, he finally got up the courage to quietly ask, "What the hell, man?"

Gabriel tried not to laugh, but his white teeth flashed against his newly darkened complexion. "Try it." He challenged. "The mud acts like a sunscreen and bug repellant. It will also keep your skin cool."

Peter smiled and inquired, "Yeah, but does it exfoliate? Because if this shit doesn't make my skin absolutely radiate, I will be expecting a full refund." He stood up stiffly and stretched. "But first things first. Which way to the men's room?"

"If you are just going to piss, you can go about 30 paces and do your business. But if you had planned on dropping off some friends, take one of the plastic shards with you, go 50 paces and dig a hole. Remember to bury it when you are done." Gabriel answered dryly. Peter remembered hearing about that quirky rule from friends who had been camping at Yellowstone, but he thought they had just made it up. He could never really believe half of what his friends said anyway. Sadly, most had political aspirations and they would probably be wildly successful.

Peter went exactly 30 paces and found a suitably large tree against which to relieve himself out of Gabriel's view. He frowned as he went about the usual routine and thought about how strange Gabriel was. There was no doubt that the man was smart, and he wasn't kidding when he said he might have been a genius; but maybe he was like "Rain Man" smart. Maybe he was the kind of guy that could tell you how many toothpicks had fallen on the floor or what day of the week any date fell on, but couldn't tie his own shoes. _Eating people_ he thought with a squint. What kind of person thinks about things like that?

Things were taking a bit longer than he had expected, so he casually leaned against the tree and tried to relax; the last thing he wanted out here was a kidney infection. He didn't want to give Gabriel an excuse to eat him or worse yet attempt to remove it in a botched operation. No matter how much the odd man unnerved him, he knew that he was sort of dependent on him for further survival. He didn't fully understand how Gabriel's brain worked, but it did seem that he was able to just figure things out and if Peter was interested in ever seeing New York again, he had to pull his weight and try not to piss him off.

Peter's head instinctively turned when he head rustling in a nearby palm patch. He quickly packed up and called to Gabriel in a tense voice while he searched for a suitably long and pointed stick without taking his eyes off the greenery that moved before his eyes. Whatever it was seemed unaware of his presence as it continued to move by unseen. Gabriel came to a full stop, lightly huffing from the mad dash and looked at Peter expectantly. Peter gestured for him to be quiet and pointed at the low lying palms. Gabriel trained his eyes on the target and squinted to focus them until he saw the leaves move.

He turned to Peter and mouthed, "What is it?"

Peter frowned and silently replied, "I don't know!"

Gabriel looked around until he found a hefty branch about the size of a baseball bat and nodded at Peter to use his stick to separate the thick brush while he prepared to swing. Peter carefully approached the thicket and gently probed until he caught sight of the pattern on the animal's skin. "Snake!" He whispered to Gabriel. "Big one! Moving your way!" Gabriel's eyes sparkled with what Peter hoped was the prospect of a meal instead of the thrill of the kill, but he couldn't entirely be sure. Gabriel took a few cross steps to his right until he had approximated the location of the head and took a mighty chopping swing. The movement stopped and Gabriel moved the brush enough to actually find the stunned snake's head and he took a few more savage swings to finish the job. The brutality of it sickened Peter although he knew that there really was no humane way to end the snake's life other than to bludgeon it to death.

When Gabriel was sure the snake had expired, he wrapped his hands around the neck and pulled. Both men were astonished at the sheer size of the animal. Peter would have guessed it was an anaconda, but he wasn't sure if they lived in this part of the world. All that could be said with any degree of accuracy was that the snake was very large and would easily feed both starving men. In fact, it took them both to carry the heavy serpent back to the hut. They let it fall with a heavy thud and Gabriel sank to his knees from the effort He looked up at Peter and breathlessly asked, "Know anything about cleaning snakes?"

Peter kneeled down next to him and wiped his forehead while he concentrated. "We dissected one last semester in biology." He sighed. "The venom sacks are in the head."

Gabriel looked at the mess of flesh and bone that used to be the skull. "I think we have that covered." He handed a sharp bit of plastic to Peter as a scrub nurse would hand a scalpel to the surgeon. "We did perch. This one is all you." He smirked.

Peter slowly took the item and rolled the beast over to reveal the white belly. As he began to cut the tough skin, he found himself actually enjoying the experience. It was not so much that the animal had died, but it was the satisfaction of knowing that between the two they had the skill to capture food. This was just another step in their ultimate survival he told himself as he ran his finger along the incision, separating the guts from the edible pink hued flesh. Suddenly he felt primal and strangely proud. This was something he couldn't imagine telling his friends about, they simply wouldn't understand. Would Nathan? Would he be surprised or give his little brother a pat on the back for finding his long buried and hidden killer instinct? He found skinning the prey easier than he had imagined; for the most part, it peeled away from the flesh like turning a sock inside out.

Neither man said anything as they rotated their skewers of fresh meat over the fire as one would toast a marshmallow until it was pure white and they were reasonably sure it was safe to eat. Nothing had ever tasted so good to either of them. "Tastes like chicken." Gabriel observed with his mouth full. Peter scowled and prepared more of the meat thinking that was what Jeffery Dahmer said about human flesh.

Both men ate as much as their stomachs could hold since they didn't know when their next meal would be and there was no way to preserve the meat to cook later. It seemed like such a waste, but they dare not risk eating rotten food. One could easily die of dehydration if they contracted food poisoning. Gabriel had suffered through one bout of it when he was 12 and that was one experience he was not eager to relive. He had no real conception of death at that age, but he often wondered if that was what it was like. The continuous pain and misery just didn't seem compatible with life.

With great effort, the men drug the remains of the carcass to the wreckage site and dumped it, covering their noses to avoid inhaling the stench of decay that began to hang over the area. They didn't come this far just to lose their hard earned meal. Climbing the ladder with nearly bursting bellies was a chore, but they made the ascent and sighed heavily as they laid on their backs staring at the now browning roof. Gabriel began laughing lightly, prompting Peter to turn his head to look at him. "And you thought you couldn't hunt."

Peter smiled at the irony. "I didn't, really. It found me."

"Well, whatever, man." Gabriel stated. "If we have to put you out as bait to catch food, then so be it. Maybe you are some kind of Grizzly Adams or something, animals are just attracted to you." Peter had never really been around animals before unless he counted the Central Park Zoo or the legions of pigeons that swarmed the city and they did seem to follow along behind him glaring with their beady little eyes. There was that one time his cousin's shiatsu tied to bite him…and he did get chattered at by an angry squirrel last summer… and he did get chased around a park by a goose… if animals were attracted to him it was for all the wrong reasons. "So what would you be doing right now if you were back in New York?" Gabriel asked pulling him from his memories of prior animal assaults.

He cleared his throat and frowned. "Uh….I don't really know. What day is it?" He wasn't as upset about losing track of time as he thought he would be. Perhaps it was just better not to think about how much time he had spent waiting on help to arrive. One moment at a time.

"Saturday." He replied.

He thought about it, but shrugged. "Homework, I guess." Of course there was more he wasn't saying because he was tired of people judging him based on his parent's status. At least for a little while, he could associate with Gabriel because he didn't seem to know. At any rate, Peter never told him his last name; as soon as he did, the game would be over because _everyone_ knew who the Petrelli's were. No doubt there would be some stupid party his parents would want him to go to. He would have to get all dressed up and smile even though all of the pretense made him sick. For the first time since the crash, he found himself glad he was stranded in the jungle. "You?"

"Probably the same." Gabriel replied half-heartedly. He knew it was only partially the truth. Saturdays were often spent watching boring game shows and documentaries with his mother in the dimly lit apartment because she seemed to enjoy them. He closed his eyes and tried to forget the way her eyes shined when he would often correctly give the answer to clues on "Jeopardy." She would tell him how smart and special he was. He could be anything he wanted, she would sigh in admiration, even the president! He would weakly smile at her knowing he had no such ambitions for himself. He couldn't figure out a way to explain to her that his intellectual ability, while helpful, wouldn't be enough to get him to the places she had envisioned him going. Even if he managed to get a scholarship, or in his mind be yet another charity case, it wouldn't change the fact that he was poor and the tattered remains of their family did not have the power or clout needed to get ahead, because that was how the real world worked. He was not an Astor, a Rockefeller, a member of the ubiquitous Mafioso…he wasn't even a Petrelli, but he often wondered what his life would be like if he was.


	9. Chapter 9 Missed Opportunities

**Chapter 9- Missed Opportunities**

With full bellies and the oppressive heat, both men fell asleep sometime in the early afternoon to the sounds of birds in the canopy. Secretly, Gabriel had always had a mild fear of birds since he was a small child. There was something about their sharp beaks and unblinking eyes that made him cringe, so he was always on guard when they were out. Soon, however, he relaxed when it became clear that on the whole they didn't seem to give a damn about his existence; he didn't have anything they wanted.

His sleep was anything but peaceful. For the first time since the crash, he began having nightmares. In the back of his mind he knew that it was a possibility and there was always that simmering well of fear and dread that flowed just under the numb surface that threatened to burst forth at anytime. Images of the experience filled his mind with such vivid realism he thought it was happening all over again; he could see the screaming, bloody faces and the limbs that were torn from bodies when the plane broke up. He tried to scream when the fear became consuming, but nothing came out even though he didn't remember being afraid at the time. As he recalled, he felt nothing but a strange sense of detachment in part because he just couldn't believe that he was about to die. Death was something that happened to people like the old widowed pensioner that lived down the hall from him that listened to "Wheel of Fortune" like it was a rock concert late into the night; it didn't happen to 16 year old high school kids like him. But it did; the battered face of the young boy that hung over his head as he crawled out of the wreckage stared blankly at him as if to question why he died and Gabriel lived.

Mercifully, he woke to see Peter's worried face hovering over him instead of the young boy. "You ok, man?" He asked with a frown. "Were you having a bad dream or something?"

Gabriel sighed deeply and covered his face, trying to steady his trembling hands. His heart was pounding a mile a minute as though he had just ran a marathon. "What happened?" He mumbled slightly embarrassed.

"I woke up when you screamed. You scared the shit out of me, man." He answered quietly. "Were you dreaming about the crash?" Gabriel nodded in agreement, trying to concentrate on his breathing to slow it down- blood was rushing so fast in his ears they rang and he could barely hear Peter's voice. He couldn't remember a time when he was so afraid. "Wanna tell me about it?" Peter asked. "Maybe if you talk about it, they will go away."

Gabriel let his hands fall to his side and he shook his head. "No, man. You were there, you know what happened. I don't need to tell you about it." When Peter looked a little disappointed, Gabriel felt compelled to add, "Besides, if you haven't had dreams about it yet- hearing all of the gory details might trigger them for you. If you are able to sleep well, I'm not going to fuck that up for you." It sounded a little magnanimous, but he sincerely meant it. He wouldn't wish dreams like that on anyone, especially Peter.

They had only been together for three days, but already it felt like a lifetime and Peter had somehow crept past his defenses. As he lay there listening to the beating of his own heart, he was slightly astonished to realize that at some point he had come to consider the younger man something of a friend and he felt a certain responsibility for his survival as well as his own. Gabriel had never really had any close friends not because he didn't desire the association of people his own age, but it seemed he shared nothing in common with his peers. He had always known he was somehow different and kids are nothing if not adept at pointing out differences.

But Peter was another creature entirely; he seemed to take everything with a grain of salt and tended to focus on commonalities while casually accepting discrepancies with a shrug. Gabriel had never met anyone like him before. But more immediately, Peter seemed equally invested in Gabriel's survival, which he was not expecting. Although he was initially suspicious of Peter, he was glad he let him provide first aid for the wounds on his back; were it not for his expertise he may have developed an infection and fell gravely ill or even died. Although he seemed to have the technical skills, he knew his survival depended on Peter's gifts as well.

"Gabriel!" Peter gasped excitedly, his olive eyes wild with hope. "Do you hear that?" Gabriel strained his ears, but couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary. "You can't hear it?" He asked disappointed. "It sounded like a helicopter." His face fell when he continued, "But I don't hear it now, either."

Gabriel gave him a light smile and stated, "It would have been nice. I wish I did hear it." Even though it was a false alarm, for just a second he was reminded of what hope felt like and it felt good.

After lying in silence for a few minutes, it became clear that Peter wasn't hearing things. The low, thunderous chopping sound of helicopter blades cutting the air at 324 rpm became steadily louder, although it seemed the aircraft was some distance from their location. Excitedly, Peter decided to forgo the ladder and jumped from the platform to the ground. He landed awkwardly and stifled a cry of pain when his ankle turned inward, but the adrenaline that flowed through his body pushed him to his feet and he sprinted to the clearing to look up at the sky in search of his rescue. Gabriel joined him and together they squinted against the bright sun, but saw nothing.

"Goddamn it!" Peter yelled helplessly. "How could they miss a huge bare spot in the jungle? Hey! Down here!" He began to jump and wave his arms wildly while Gabriel looked on. He understood Peter's desire to be rescued, but he didn't have the heart to tell him that his actions were a waste of energy; there was no way they could hear him. From the air, they were insignificant specks. "Noooooo!" Peter howled when the sound moved away from them. "Don't leave, we are right here! Fuck!" He exclaimed falling into a defeated heap on the ground.

Gabriel looked down at him and expected him to begin sobbing. He wouldn't have thought less of Peter if he had broken down and cried; they were so close. He wished he had a flare gun, but that gave him an idea. "We have to start a signal fire." He informed the seated man. "Something that will create a lot of smoke so they can see it from a distance." Peter was listening, but he was distracted by the sharp pain in his ankle and he instinctively wrapped his hands around it and grimaced. Gabriel's stomach sank. "Is it broken?" He asked hesitantly.

"I don't know." Peter hissed through his teeth.

"Ok." Gabriel stated looking around as his mind worked on the problem. "We will just assume it is. Stay there and don't move. I am going to get some stuff to fix it."

Moving was the furthest thing from Peter's mind at that moment. Even if he wasn't trained in first aid, the pain was prohibitive enough to keep his butt firmly planted on the ground. While he waited to see what Gabriel had planned, he cursed himself for being so stupid. How could he have been so careless when one small slip or mistake could be the difference between life and death? He was angry that he had hamstrung himself, but equally upset that he had placed even more of a burden on Gabriel.

The longer he sat there, the more the pain lessened and he became hopeful that it was perhaps just a sprain and not a broken bone. In any event, at least it wasn't an arm or leg or worst case scenario- his pelvis. Without medical attention, all of those could be fatal if the internal bleeding couldn't be stopped. As he sat there among the dirt and leaf litter with an injured ankle and soiled, torn clothes, he struggled to keep a positive attitude although he felt like crying. Never before in his life had he felt so hopeless and abandoned. He had always sort of felt abandoned at home with his parents who ignored him as though he were just another piece of stupidly overpriced Horchow furniture, but there was always Nathan. No matter where Nathan was or what he was doing, Peter always knew that his older brother cared and would make time for him if he called. If only Nathan knew how much he needed him now…

Gabriel approached slowly and was momentarily caught off guard by Peter's red rimmed eyes. He quickly looked down and pretended not to notice, but inwardly he felt sorry for the smaller man. His injury must have been bad if the pain was intense enough to make him cry. If there were only two things that males learn at a very early age, they were that you never hit girls and boys don't cry. At least those were the few things his father taught him before he left. No matter what he may have thought about his father, he tried his best to observe the rules and as such he had never raised his hand to a woman even in self defense, and he never…_never_ cried no matter how much mental or physical pain he was in. Not that he didn't want to at times, but he clenched his teeth and swallowed it all down because he couldn't afford to be weak.

He put his bundle of sticks and strips of cloth down and kneeled by Peter's feet and set to work fashioning a splint out of the materials he had gathered. Peter watched with fascination at the complex yet beautifully functional device Gabriel had made and tried not to wince when the cloth strips were wrapped tightly against his bruised and swollen flesh. When he was finished, Peter found his tightly bound ankle to be very stable and the steady pressure of the cloth helped reduce the pain. Gabriel helped Peter to his feet and stooped a bit to wrap Peter's arm across his shoulder to offer support on his injured side. Together they slowly made their way back to the hut; Gabriel's slender frame acting as a crutch while Peter hopped along on his good leg.

It almost took all of the strength that he had, but Peter managed to pull himself up the ladder using only his upper body until he fell with an exhausted thud on the floor of the hut, panting wildly. Gabriel peered over the edge of the floor at his companion anxiously. "You ok, man?"

Peter gasped like a fish out of water, but managed a weak smile. "Yeah, I think so. Do we have any water? I am so thirsty."

Gabriel's eyed shifted downward and he quietly replied, "No, and for all that time it rained, we should have been collecting it to drink. Goddamn it! Why didn't I think of that?! We missed a perfect opportunity!"

Peter licked his parched lips and panted, "Don't be so hard on yourself, I didn't think of it either."

Gabriel gave a small smile, but the lower half of his face was obscured by the floor so Peter didn't see it. "Alright. Well, I am going to set up the signal fire so we can get their attention next time and then I will figure something out about the water problem."

Just as he was about to leave, Peter cleared his throat and called, "Gabriel?" When his large, dark eyes came back into view with an expectant look, he added "I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry I fucked things up."

Gabriel blinked slowly and stated, "Shit happens, man. We'll deal. As soon as I can find some water you should take some of the aspirin we have, maybe that will help."

Peter smiled faintly. "Thanks for patching me up and helping me walk."

Gabriel's gaze fell awkwardly as though he was embarrassed and he gave a terse nod before he disappeared from sight down the ladder. What did he expect, to be left sitting by the rotting corpses to be eaten by wild animals? He had decided long ago that he wasn't leaving the jungle without Peter, he just didn't know how to tell him.


	10. Chapter 10 Jungle Fever

**Chapter 10- Jungle Fever**

Peter watched Gabriel build a large pyramid structure from sticks and green plant matter while he rested on his stomach with his leg bent to elevate his injured ankle. While he watched him work, Peter thought about his life in New York. He wondered how his friends reacted to the news that he was on the plane that crashed in kalamazoo backwoods Mexico. He had many acquaintances as someone of his status would dictate, but he only considered a precious few his true friends and he thought it to be a sad state of affairs all in all. He had always been a very warm, friendly, and outgoing kind of person who was somehow able to see the best in everyone, but all too often this approach led to his being taken advantage of. He had to learn very quickly what power and privilege meant; he didn't understand that not everyone that pretended to be his friend actually was and it took many a heartbreak and betrayal for him to get the message. He didn't want to be so guarded, but only those who didn't care about his family name could really be his friend because when it came to others, he didn't give a damn about socioeconomic status; all that seemed important was the characteristics of the individual. Of course his parents were mortified by some his friends when they were of the lower castes, but that just made him all the more determined to associate with them because the snobbery and pretentiousness of the people of his class baffled him. Why buy the latest fashions from Abercrombie & Fitch if you actually hated to wear it? Why take polo lessons if you hated playing it? Moreover, why wear a fake smile the whole time as though it were the best thing since sliced bread?

Some of the most 'real' people Peter had ever met were the least influential and dispossessed. He smiled as he thought about the random conversations he would strike up with people in Central Park on Saturday afternoons. He talked with so many people and each had a unique and powerful story to tell. Some were immigrants who had only been in the country a week, some came to New York hoping to make it big on Broadway, some had just got out of jail for drug or prostitution charges and had nowhere to go, some were runaways from other parts of the nation, and a few were just down on their luck, but they all had something in common; every person he met had hope for the future and each tried to reach up in an effort to improve their lives. They never stopped struggling to become something more than they had been and it always warmed Peter's heart to see such tenacity in the face of adversity.

He often found himself buying a hot meal for those that needed it just so he could listen to them because it seemed like a fair trade, but this was how he knew he wanted to be part of the solution. He wanted to see the people he talked to succeed in part because he felt guilty that he had never wanted for anything. After a long day in the park, especially in the winter, a deep sadness would fall over him as he made his way back to his warm and comfortable bed in his huge house in midtown Manhattan knowing that the person he had just spent the day with would only have a bare, snow covered bench to sleep on until the cops came to harass them. There was so much suffering and inequity in the world that on some days he just couldn't stand it. He had to help in some way, he just couldn't stand by and watch people hurt and cry for help.

As he watched Gabriel work, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that in some way the taller man was like the people he met in the park. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he could sense something was amiss and he knew suffering when he saw it. Peter couldn't fix the world and he probably couldn't get the mysterious man to divulge his secrets, but for the time being he could just be his friend. At least in this time and place, maybe that was what was needed the most.

Gabriel's mind worked out the exact mechanics of proper airflow and engineering required to build a successful signal fire without his having any prior knowledge of such a venture, yet he knew for certain that his calculations were correct and it would work when the time came. He had never been comfortable with his…ability for lack of a better term until recently when he found it could come in quite handy. He was frightened by this almost extrasensory trait and he often wondered if it was a sign of mental illness or even demon possession, but he kept it to himself and never told another soul aside from Peter. Be it a blessing or a curse, he had come to trust it more and more because it never seemed to lead him astray and it offered him a sense of peace to know that no matter what happened, he could figure something out. When he was finished, he looked at his creation with pride and hoped that it would catch the attention of the next helicopter that ventured in their direction.

After his first task was accomplished, he focused his attention on the water problem. He again mentally kicked himself in the ass for not collecting the rainwater, but he couldn't waste time with what could have been. If worse came to worse they could drink their own urine because it was sterile, but he was going to save that suggestion for a time when things were truly dire. He was well aware that his comments on eating the available human flesh was not well received by Peter even though it made perfect sense. He understood Peter's objections, but he would rather be alive and remorseful than sentimental and dead. But that was all water under the bridge which reminded him that he needed to find water.

His first thought was to find low lying ground and hope that the water table was high enough that he could simply dig a hole and strike gold. He wandered around until he found a deep groove in the ground cut by the wreckage. He dug with his bare hands until sweat dripped off his nose, but all he had was a pile of moist dirt. He glared up at the sky and decided that the chances of finding water in soil scorched by the sun was an improbability, so he abandoned the project and formulated a new plan.

What he should have been doing all along, he thought to himself, was to collect what water remained in pools or upturned leaves. If he boiled it, it should kill whatever bacteria it may harbor and be good for he and Peter to drink. He stopped by the base of the hut to pick up empty water bottles. He noted Peter's gaze and shyly smiled because he felt as though the younger man somehow knew his first plan had failed. But instead of disappointment and criticism, if anything Peter looked amused because he knew he probably couldn't do any better himself. Gabriel took his armful of bottles and headed off to the woods with Peter's voice calling after him, "be careful out there!"

He kept looking back as he walked to make sure he was going in a relatively straight line. The last thing he needed was to get lost in the jungle. He moved slowly and scanned the ground for every puddle he could find and after a few attempts he became adept at pouring the water from leaves into his bottle without spilling a drop. Each find yielded no more than a teaspoon full, but every little bit helped and was like liquid gold. Without it, he and Peter would certainly die. He nearly shouted for joy when he stumbled upon a pool that contained at least two liters. He eagerly filled his bottles and when the water became murky with sediment as he reached the bottom, he removed his shirt and filled it with the soupy mud to strain the last drops from the Earth into a funnel he fashioned by rolling up a leaf. He couldn't believe his luck. If they were careful, they could make this supply last a day or two. Maybe, just maybe that would be long enough to be rescued and they wouldn't have to worry about searching for more.

As he stood to return to the hut laden with four and a half bottles of water, he felt a sharp pain around his left ankle. He instinctively swatted at it and looked at the littered forest floor for the culprit, but saw nothing. He dismissed it and continued on his way, trying to remember the exact path he had taken. He tried to push it to the back of his mind as being scratched by a twig or even a figment of his imagination, but he couldn't shake that same foreboding feeling he had just before the plane crashed. Gabriel was a rational man and he didn't believe in ESP or anything like that, but he could appreciate the scientific method of verification by replication and he was hoping against all hope that lightning didn't strike twice.

All in all he did a fair job of navigating and he came out at the crash site a few hundred yards away from the hut. He was thankful he didn't go too far because with that kind of error rate, he could have been miles of course if he had to go further. He searched the crash site until he found a shard of metal that had been bent into a bowl shape more or less. He turned the twisted metal in his hands and wondered if it would be safe to boil water in. He didn't know what kinds of chemicals might leach out, but he was certain that it was most likely safer than drinking the water he had collected without sterilizing it. Peter would probably know the names of all the bad things that could come of it, but cholera and dysentery came to mind.

"Have any luck?" Peter called as he approached the hut. "It was getting dark and I was starting to worry."

Gabriel peered up at him and smiled when he realized he was reading one of the inflight retail catalogs that pedaled wares such as cherry wood necktie racks and inflatable swimming pools- easy solutions to modern day living at hideous prices all at 30,000 feet. "Yeah," he answered pulling his bounty from various pockets in his jeans, "Not a whole lot, but it will get us through for awhile." As he set to work building a fire, he asked, "How's the ankle?"

Peter sighed and looked back at his elevated appendage as though it were a badly behaved child. "It doesn't hurt as much now. I think it is probably just sprained."

The fire leapt to life in a spontaneous whoosh, causing Gabriel to flinch away in order to save his eyebrows. He patiently watched the fire as he boiled the water in the makeshift scrap metal pot until he felt enough time had passed to effectively kill whatever harmful substances lived in it. He wanted the water to be safe, but he didn't want to overdo it and lose a precious quantity to evaporation, so he skillfully used two sticks to remove it from the fire and set it aside to cool.

He jumped slightly when Peter called his name. "Gabriel. What are you going to do when you get back to New York?" His voice was far away and dreamy almost as though it were a rhetorical question.

Gabriel looked over the dancing fire into the darkness as far as he could see, which wasn't as distant as he would have liked. If only he had his glasses… New York seemed like a fairy tale to him- a distant place of connection and convenience far removed from the isolation and stillness of the jungle. "Go on with life, I guess." He mumbled. Knowing the citizens of his city, they would probably have a passing interest in the return of two boys who survived a plane crash, but it would be fleeting. Their attention would easily be captured by the next shiny thing.

"I know, but do you think the media will want interviews and stuff?" His voice fell and he added, "I wouldn't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything." Gabriel answered quietly. "How do you explain something like this anyway?" He threw up his hands in desperation. "We got extraordinarily lucky, Peter, that's all. There is nothing more to say."

Peter nodded his head in agreement. The reality was his parents probably wouldn't care enough to ask for details and his friends might, but they would understand if he didn't want to talk about it right away. Gabriel didn't really have any curious friends or family to worry about. He might as well have been the invisible man to those around him; all except for his mother. He briefly thought about her sitting in their tiny dark apartment crying alone at the kitchen table surrounded by her collection of snow globes and it broke his heart. For all of her shortcomings and failures, there was never any doubt that she loved him and in that moment he missed her as though he were a small child lost in a department store.

He was overcome by a sense of sadness, but this was one of those times that he would have to push all of the pain deep down and focus on the task at hand even though he wanted to cry. He busied himself by carefully refilling the water bottles. He was aware that some contaminated water may have remained in the containers, but he hoped it wouldn't be enough to make them sick. He tossed the bottles up to Peter and climbed the ladder. He suddenly felt weary as though he hadn't rested for days. It was a complete kind of exhaustion- it was similar to the way he felt when he would swim at the public pool all day and feel like a wet noodle when he got out. Even Peter noticed and his olive eyes grew dark as he pushed his bangs away. "You ok, man?" He asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Gabriel sighed resting on his back, "I'm just tired."

Peter thought it unlikely because as far as he knew, Gabriel slept well the night before and they had napped that afternoon, so he shouldn't have been sleepy. He thought about asking him again, but if he said he was alright then he wasn't going to nag him although he was uneasy about it. He decided to return to the magazine he wasn't the least bit interested in until Gabriel drifted off and then he could keep an eye on him.

Peter awoke with the pale moon directly overhead to the sound of Gabriel vomiting over the side of the hut. It wasn't really so much vomiting, Peter thought with a frown, as dry retching which was even worse. When he was finished, he fell back to the floor with a thud, breathing heavily with a dazed look in his eyes. Peter noticed the shine of sweat that covered his body and his stomach sank. Gabriel had caught some kind of sickness and he wasn't really sure what to do. He scrambled to get a bottle of water. "Drink some." He softly commanded. Gabriel shook his head no and tried to push the bottle away but Peter persisted. "You might not feel like it, but you have to. Just go slow and take small sips." He helped the sick man sit up enough to drink the water without choking and he was mildly surprised that Gabriel allowed him to violate his personal space with minimal fuss. Perhaps he really was sick.

When Gabriel had taken in as much as he could without risking a repeat performance, he nodded his thanks to Peter and sighed, "I think I got bit by something."

"Where?" Peter asked anxiously as he put the cap back on the bottle. Gabriel halfheartedly lifted his left leg and let it fall back to the floor. He didn't mean to be dramatic, he just didn't have the strength.

Peter scrambled to pull up the pant leg and squinted in the moonlight to see an angry, red, swollen patch just above the ankle bone, but he didn't see any obvious bite marks or open wounds. "Whatever got you had tiny fangs." He observed reaching for the first aid kit. He knew it was a little late, but he felt as though he had to do something. He carefully cleaned and bandaged the area while Gabriel drifted in and out of consciousness. When he was finished, he carefully placed the back of his hand on the moist forehead of Gabriel and noted it felt warmer than it should given the circumstances. The only thing he had at his disposal was aspirin, but he wasn't sure if it would further upset his stomach. He couldn't risk dehydration but at the same time he knew he had to control the fever, so he convinced Gabriel to take just one.

As the moon followed its unwavering path across the sky, Peter sat vigilant while Gabriel fell into a fitful sleep. He used a strip of cloth to mop the sweat from Gabriel's brow and he watched with a sense of determination. The only other person in his world needed help and he wouldn't fail him this time.


	11. Chapter 11 Salvation

**Chapter 11- Salvation**

Peter didn't know how long he had sat at Gabriel's side, but he was certain it had been at least a half a day because the sun was almost where the pale moon had been in the sky when things fell apart. Gabriel had only stirred a few times, long enough to take a few more sips of water with Peter's help, but he didn't seem to be fully aware of what was going on and that was troublesome. Peter watched him closely and continued to try to make him comfortable by keeping his forehead dry, although he knew that a damp cloth would be better he didn't want to waste what water they did have.

He shifted and stretched to relieve the tension that had built up in his muscles from sitting more or less in the same position for so long. He took another look at Gabriel and yawned. The heat and lack of food and water were making him weak and tired, but he had promised himself he would stay alert either until Gabriel showed signs of recovery or a helicopter landed in the clearing to rescue them. So far, neither seemed likely to him. He glanced wistfully out at the jumbled mess that used to be the airplane he was going home in. It seemed like so long ago although his battered and bruised body was evidence that it had in actuality been a short time.

He hadn't really been keeping track of how long he had been living like an animal partly because he had a blind faith that someone would come right along and scoop them up and partly because he was gravely disappointed when that didn't happen. He thought it was somewhere around four or five days, but was almost certain it had been less than a week. No matter, he was amazed at how quickly time had passed out in the jungle. But then again, he and Gabriel passed the time by putting out one fire after another in terms of barriers to their continued collective existence. Survival tended to almost be a full time job in and of itself and they had their fair share of obstacles to overcome. He once again looked back to Gabriel as he lay sleeping. It only seemed like the mountains to climb were getting higher and the valleys deeper. If help didn't come soon, it was a real possibility that Gabriel wouldn't make it. He immediately shook his head to disparage the thought. He simply refused to think that way. Help would come, he told himself vehemently, and Gabriel would be ok.

Gabriel's fevered inner world was filled with darkness and frighteningly distorted images. He felt as though he were drowning in fear and apprehension although he didn't know why. In some way he knew he was in dire trouble, he could almost feel his body shutting down or at the very least malfunctioning. It was a weakness and helplessness he had never felt before. The thought that he would die in the shelter he had built occasionally flitted across the back of his mind, but what struck him as evidence of cosmic cruelty was the supreme irony that he would survive a crash landing at 600 mph into the jungle only to be taken down by some tiny bug he didn't even see.

Once in awhile he would surface from the tar pit of misery and become lucid. It was always like gasping for air because being back in the real world was far better than the nightmares his own brain conjured up. He had discovered that his newfound ability was a bit like the sword of Damocles; his sharp intellect could be very useful but a mind that cunning could be relentlessly evil as well. He would often hear Peter muttering either to himself or to no one in particular, but the very sound of his voice was reassuring. It meant that he hadn't died yet, although he almost always sounded worried and that saddened Gabriel. He felt Peter wiping his forehead and to some extent he was uncomfortable with the gesture, but at the same time he was sort of relieved that he was comfortable enough to do it because it did help somewhat.

During those times when he was deep in the depths of his sickness and confronted with images and malignant ideas that were twisted and foreign to him, if he was honest with himself he would admit that in some way he actually wanted to die. He just wanted it to end. He was tired of suffering and wasn't sure that he even wanted to return to his old life in New York. What was there to go back to? Why be yet another nameless face on the subway and a body to be run into in the hallways? Really, what did he have to look forward to but a life of obscurity to be ground out in some dusty shop stooped over a litany of broken watches? That was really all he could see himself doing; it was the only real skill he had. It was then that he decided to stop fighting. He would just let nature take its course and if the fates had decided that this was to be his demise then he would shrug and accept it. There were, after all, far worse ways to go. He knew this to be true because he had witnessed some of them firsthand.

Peter used his forearm to wipe the sweat from his own brow and watched Gabriel's head loll slightly. He didn't know if he was having another bad dream, but what he did know was that it didn't seem like normal sleep. "Hang in there, man." He mumbled quietly, "You have to hold on. We are getting out of here. You have to believe that."

Try as he might to keep his vigil, Peter was only a man with physical limitations and he dozed off in the midday sauna that was created by the humidity. He was not so deep in sleep, however, that his mind did not alert him to the low, booming sound of a helicopter approaching. His olive eyes flew open and focused sharply when he realized what had awakened him. Like a dart, he scrambled down the ladder using only his arms and ran to the clearing despite his ankle being hog tied. He fell to his knees at the base of the signal fire that Gabriel had built and set to work lighting it. It took a few tries, but Peter kept calm even though the sound was becoming louder and he began to worry that they would pass them over again. He had to get this right; he simply didn't know if Gabriel could survive another night. Slowly but surely, the kindling caught fire and soon thick white smoke stretched into the sky as the green material became heated.

Peter looked to the sky, but couldn't see the craft although he knew it was close. It seemed to be hovering stationary by the sound of the rotors. "Come on…" Peter pleaded anxiously as he squinted. As if by some miracle they could hear him, the chopping sound became deafening and a mighty swirling wind filled the clearing as the nose of the craft peered over the edge of the canopy. "Hey!" Peter shouted wildly with a smile as he waved his arms. "Down here! We're alive!" His voice was easily swept away by the wind, but there was nothing else he could do but shout with joy at the knowledge that it was all over. They had made it. He watched with stunned relief as the chopper moved directly overhead and a man repelled down on a rope. He hadn't noticed it before, but he realized as the man made his way to him that it was a military craft and the man was dressed as a soldier. A US soldier.

"Pete!" The soldier yelled almost as though he saw a ghost. "Jesus fucking Christ! Pete!" All Peter could do was stare in wonder at Nathan and be wrapped up in his enthusiastic embrace. He had so many questions and things to say that nothing came out at all. How could it be? By the look in Nathan's eyes, he was wondering the same. By the time Nathan had let go, several more soldiers had made their way down and had begun canvassing the area.

One man with a medic symbol on his helmet came to a stop next to the pair. "Sir, are there any other survivors?" The man yelled over the maelstrom.

In a daze Peter answered, "There is one more in the shelter." He pointed toward the hut. "He is very sick, he was bitten by something. Maybe you should go help him first." The man nodded briskly and ran toward the hut carrying a supply bag.

"Pete…I….I just don't know what to say." Nathan stammered. "I can't believe you survived out here all this time on your own. How are you? Are you hurt?" He held his younger brother by the shoulders and looked him up and down with a worried glare.

Peter thought of all the times that Nathan had always been there for him, always defended him and tried to make things right. This occasion was no different. Nathan wanted to make his brother ok again, but Peter knew this was one time that he couldn't fix. Of all the people in the world, it was his brother that found him and in a way he wasn't at all surprised by that, because Nathan had always been Johnny on the Spot no matter what. But no matter what his personal hero said or did, it couldn't erase what he had experienced; not this time. The past few days had changed him, perhaps permanently, but he wasn't entirely sure that was a bad thing. What he was sure of was that his life would not be the same from that day on. He watched passively as a basket was lowered from the hovering chopper and whisked away toward Gabriel. He was saddened by the knowledge that he wasn't able to get out of the shelter on his own. If he had learned anything about the mysterious man it was that he didn't like being manhandled. "Pete?" Nathan called shaking him slightly.

Peter's eyes drifted back to his brother's face and he noted the worry that it contained. "Sorry, I just…" He couldn't think of an adequate excuse so he just trailed off. It wasn't like he was a stellar liar anyway. "I am glad to see you, Nathan. I thought you were at a base in California somewhere."

"I was," Nathan slyly smiled, "but I pulled some strings and got put on the search and rescue squad when Ma told me you were on the plane. I kinda felt responsible one way or the other…you know."

Peter did know. Nathan had expected to recover his corpse and yet he came anyway. "How is Ma?" He asked in a low, suspicious voice.

Nathan shrugged and gave his best politician smile. "You know how it is, Pete. Ma is handling it in her own way. They all are." He reached his arm around Peter's shoulders and continued, "But they will be glad to have you back in New York. We are going to take you back to the base for a medical exam and then you will be free to go. I am sure there are a lot of people who are looking forward to it, including you." Peter didn't dispute him, but he wasn't so sure going back to New York right away was what he wanted. He secretly wished he could just stay with him in California for awhile until the whole thing blew over.

He and Nathan watched as two men jogged toward the helicopter with Gabriel in the basket attached to IV's . He looked pale as death, but at least he was receiving some kind of proper help; more than Peter could have provided. "That the only other survivor?" Nathan asked somberly as the men attached the basket to lines to be hauled up.

"Yeah." Peter confirmed watching his friend float up into the sky. "His name is Gabriel. He saved my life."

Nathan looked around at the wreckage his brother had somehow miraculously survived and gave him a pat on the back before leading him to the lines that had been thrown down. He first rigged Peter and then himself and together they were lifted into the belly of the helicopter. The craft slowly rose and then banked on its way back to California. Peter watched out the open door as the gouged Earth littered with twisted metal grew further and further away until it was only a distant memory.


	12. Chapter 12 Homeward Bound

**A/N: Thanks to all who followed along. I wanted to get this up and just say gratzi to my readers and cross your fingers for Monday night's season premiere of Heroes. Let's all hope they get their mojo back! Cheers!**

**Chapter 12- Homeward Bound**

Gabriel awoke to bright lights almost blinding him and strange voices murmuring in sharp tones. He lay perfectly still, trying to open his eyes slowly to see his surroundings, but the light was like daggers and his head would explode with pain. He gave up and instead focused on his other senses. It was slightly cold and the covers were scratchy as though they were made of wool and overwashed cotton. The room smelled overpoweringly like antiseptic and by all the available clues, he assumed he was in a hospital. He thought hard, but didn't remember ever leaving the jungle and his first instinct was to look for Peter.

He forced his eyes open despite the pain and found himself in a large room filled with rows of cots, almost all empty save a few other unfortunate people who had also ran afoul of something. He was attached to IV lines feeding him clear liquids and no doubt medicines to combat whatever he may have been exposed to. The only colored items in the otherwise mausoleum white room came in the form of olive drab, khaki, and black. An individual passed by the foot of his bed without so much as taking notice that he was awake and she was dressed in fatigues. Outside, the walls rumbled with the sound of helicopter engines and it was only then that he realized he was in a military hospital. He glanced at the faces he could see without his glasses, but none were Peter. As he lay there all alone, he began to wonder if something had happened and he didn't make it.

Peter smiled when Nathan approached and sat on the bed next to his. "Hey." Nathan greeted returning the grin. "How are you feeling?"

"I think I will live." Peter chuckled. "A little sore, but I can manage."

Nathan nodded his head in agreement. He had always felt as though he had to protect Peter because he couldn't do it himself, but after the events that had transpired he began to question his assumptions about his younger brother. "The doc said you were remarkably lucky that you didn't sustain more serious injuries in the crash. All you have to show for it are some scrapes and a fractured ankle. You are one lucky bastard, Pete."

Peter looked down at the plaster cast that encased his lower leg and laughed. "I wouldn't have even had that if I didn't jump 10 feet when I heard a helicopter the day before you came."

"That wasn't us." Nathan corrected. "That was the Mexican government. They spotted the crash site, but was running low on fuel so they had to turn back. They reported it to the central office and we picked it up for salvage operations. Besides, they didn't know there were any survivors. They just assumed…" He couldn't bring himself to say that they thought it was 100% fatality even though most plane crashes were. "Anyway, the doc says you will be safe to travel in a day or so. Ma is already making arrangements." He made his last statement cautiously because he knew how much Peter detested the imminent attention.

"Shit." Peter sighed rolling his eyes. He could just see it: a month's worth of welcome home parties attended and given by people he hardly knew. "What about Gabriel? Where is he?" He asked looking around at the vast empty room anxiously.

Nathan seemed surprised by Peter's sudden anxiety, but then again it was just like his brother to worry about everyone else but himself. "I think he is at the other end." He answered plainly. He just knew what was coming next.

"I want to see him." Peter declared attempting to get up.

Nathan placed his hand on his brother's chest and gently pushed him back down into a prone position. "Take it easy, Pete. You can't just walk over there, that will get you a tranquilizer in the ass, believe me." He could see very well in his brother's murky eyes that he wasn't going to let it go so he sighed, "Tell you what. I will go check on him for you. Anything you want to tell him?"

Peter thought about it, but couldn't come up with anything poignant to say. "I just want to know that he is ok."

Nathan nodded and shuffled across the vast sickbay in search of the other only survivor. In a way he could understand how stressful circumstances could forge such a bond. He and his wingman were close by virtue of surviving firefights, so he could understand his brother's concern. What worried him was that his parent's wouldn't should Peter want to stay in contact with this other man because chances were he was just not of the same cloth as the Petrelli's; not many people were. It wasn't the other man's fault, that was just the way it was and it wasn't likely to change no matter how much Peter rebelled against it.

After a surreptitious peek at the charge nurse's chart, he went to the bed of the only man named "Gabriel" on the list. He was hoping he would still be asleep so he could avoid the unpleasantries, but the man blinked slowly at him while he stalled by reading the chart that hung at the foot of the bed. Nathan was no corpsman, so he didn't understand half of what was scribbled on the papers, but he did know what antivenom and sutures were. He studied the name on the chart- "Gabriel Gray" just in case at some point in the future he would have to help Peter find him. It was a simple name, easy to remember, but plain and it seemed to suit the man it was assigned to. With just a glance Nathan knew that Gabriel was the sort of man he could forget as soon as he walked away. Gabriel cleared his throat and asked, "Are you a doctor?"

Nathan put the chart down and decided to just get it over with. "No. I was one of the men who found you. Peter is asking about you."

Gabriel's eyes seemed to light up at the mention of Peter's name and Nathan remembered what Peter had told him, that the man in the bed before him had saved his little brother's life. It was only because of this that he felt he owed him something. "Where is he? How is he?" Gabriel asked in a rush.

Nathan slowly made his way next to him and stood looking down with his arms crossed. "He is on the other side of the room and he is ok. He was wondering the same about you. Your chart says you will be ready to go soon."

Gabriel seemed surprised and in fact he was. This man was the first to even notice him since he woke up. Everyone else just filed past as though he didn't exist, but that was nothing new for him. He noted the name patch on the man's uniform. "Petrelli" He scoffed to himself, it must be a coincidence because the Petrellis he had heard of would never have allowed a member of the family to join the military- there was not enough prestige to be had. They all would have gone to some ivy league college anyway. "How did you find us?" He asked of the towering man.

"We spotted the smoke from the signal fire Peter built." He answered a little smugly. Gabriel saw no point in telling him it was he that built the fire, it just didn't seem relevant at that point. Nathan walked back to the end of the bed and seemed uncomfortable. "Do….do you need…anything?" He stammered.

Gabriel knew he didn't want to be there, so he didn't want to impose even though his stomach grumbled from hunger. "No. If you will see Peter again before you go, tell him I am ok." Nathan nodded and briskly walked away, leaving Gabriel wondering if Petrelli was going to be the first and last person he would come in contact with.

Both Gabriel and Peter were given clothing by the staff to replace their torn and soiled rags and allowed to shower before the flight back to New York. Neither man was particularly looking forward to flying again, but it was the only sensible way to cross the country. As they waited on the tarmac with Nathan in his flight suit, they looked at each other apparently satisfied with the outcome of their ordeal. When the plane was ready, Nathan gave Peter a quick hug and instructed, "Say hello to Ma for me."

Gabriel's heart sank deep in his chest. Peter was a Petrelli? Petrelli + New York equaled not a snowball's chance in hell that he would ever talk to him again once they got back. Gabriel knew the rules of the game. The rise back was smooth although every time the plane shook in the slightest both men had to make a conscious effort to keep calm.

Gabriel plodded down the stairs onto the tarmac behind Peter who was struggling because of his cast. While he waited, he squinted to look out at the large crowd that had assembled at the airfield and was perplexed at the sheer amount of cheering like he and Peter were the Beatles or something. Flashes from cameras looked like a lightning storm and a brigade of reporters with microphones at the ready were being held back by a line of cops. The men were escorted straight into the terminal where an area had been cordoned off for more reporters.

In front of the line of wildly shouting news types stood two women. One was tall, slender, and stately looking in her full length black mink coat- not a hair out of place. He painted red lips were drawn into a straight line across her expressionless face. The other wore a threadbare dress covered by an equally rumpled cardigan, both of which looked as though they had come from a secondhand shop. Her hair was slightly messy and her face worn with worry, but she clasped her hands in front of her chest and her eyes ran with tears of joy. The two men looked at each other as if to say goodbye and approached their respective mothers. Gabriel stooped down to embrace the only woman that truly loved him while Angela did nothing to outwardly acknowledge her son other than to turn to the press and coldly state, "He will not be giving any interviews. We will release a statement through our publicist." Peter hung his head and hobbled along on his crutches.

Gabriel and his mother followed, but he was assaulted by a wave of microphones and bright lights thrust into his face. "Mr. Gray! Mr. Gray, what was it like being stranded in the jungle?" "Mr. Gray, what do you have to say to the people of New York?" "Mr. Gray, how does feel to be home?" "Mr. Gray, what is it like being in a plane crash?"

There were so many voices and so much chaos he didn't know how to respond. "I just…I just want to go home." He mumbled as he pushed his way through the crowd to the outside of the facility. Together he and his mother walked to the bus stop and waited. "I am so proud of you, Gabriel." His mother beamed. He smiled down at her because for the first time in his life, he was actually proud of himself.

A black chauffeured car slowly passed and through the darkened glass, Gabriel could just make out Peter's face. Peter looked back at the man he envied for so many reasons.


End file.
